I hope they arrive in time . . .

Nosficio’s heedful glance told Marai he thought the same. Ruenen and Nieve got to their feet, and the chamber fell silent.

“Prince Ruenen, I hope you’ve had a pleasant stay here in Grelta.”

“It was more than I deserved, Your Grace,” Ruenen said, kissing her outstretched hand. “Thank you, so very much, for your aid and welcoming arrival. And please give my best to His Majesty, the King. I’m sorry not to say farewell to him in person.”

Nieve’s eyebrows rose. “You truly mean that, don’t you? Most people say such things as courtesy, but the truth is in your honest eyes.” She peered out across the room, finding Marai amongst the guards. “You were correct, Lady Marai. He is abnormal. I look forward to our partnership, Prince.”

Ruenen walked down the dais and shook hands with the entire council of Grelta. After several more pleasantries and goodbyes to Goso and his assistant, Ruenen’s Nevandian entourage gathered in the middle of the room.

“As a final show of trust, I ask that you show me the glorious gifts that allowed you to travel to me so quickly.” Nieve stared squarely at Marai.

A muscle in the corner of Marai’s eye twitched. A display of magic. Nieve wanted to see it for herself.

“You don’t have to,” Ruenen quickly whispered to her.

Marai wanted to reach out and cup her hand to his cheek for those words, but she raised both arms. The queen had confided in her, and Marai would repay the candor.

Bright, colorful magic burst forth, creating the portal. Nieve’s eyes opened wide. She took a small step back. The silver guards along the room moved, their armor clattering, but that was all. Nieve stared into the portal, viewing the Nevandian Witenagemot chamber on the other side. A graceful hand came to her throat.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice soft in awe. “How extraordinary.”

Marai had never thought of her magic as beautiful, but perhaps, when no one was trying to kill you because of it, magic was quite winsome.

Nieve tentatively approached, walking around the portal, examining it from all sides. She turned to Marai, eyes still wide. “Thank you for showing me. I wish you the best of luck. Protect your prince.” A vicious smile came to the queen’s lips. “May Tacorn and Rayghast burn.”

The minute Marai’s feet stepped through the portal, chaos swarmed around her. The council chamber was crammed to the brim with soldiers, members of the Witan, and a slew of nobles and servants. All of them shouted and pointed as Marai quickly sealed the portal shut. Apparently, their arrival had taken the counsel by surprise. Several people held their hands to their hearts in breathless alarm.

Marai spotted Keshel off to the side. Aresti was already making her way swiftly there. Nosficio had disappeared as soon as he’d come through the portal. Perhaps the number of people and smell of blood overwhelmed the vampire.

“What’s going on?” Aresti asked her cousin.

Keshel’s body was closed off, arms crossed tightly, face limed with concern. “We just received word that Tacorn soldiers, one of Rayghast’s elite units, attacked Gloaw Crana a few days ago.” Gloaw Crana was a town on the Tacorn-Nevandian border, right along the main road. Founded long ago by the fae, its citizens were used to skirmishes in that area, and the occasional death, but this was different. “The entire town up in smoke. Every man, woman, and child dead.”

Marai’s heart stopped. Aresti cursed, aptly voicing Marai’s thoughts.

“Varanese forces are on the move,” said Keshel. “Our spies said they’re crossing through on the road to Tacorn.”

Marai shivered, suddenly as cold as she’d been in the Lirrstrass garden. How had all of this happened in half a day? 

“Why didn’t our army stop them?” Aresti asked.

Keshel knit his brows together. “Because Avilyard is consolidating all Nevandian forces here in the Red Lands. There are hardly any soldiers left in upper Nevandia. Gloaw Crana was completely exposed and unarmed.”

Marai glanced over to Ruenen, surrounded by people yelling, talking over each other, waving papers in his face. Lost at sea, his eyes were wide, face paling, as he took in the news of what had occurred while he’d been in Grelta.

But Nieve’s forces would come, Marai reminded herself. She hoped Rayghast wouldn’t mount a massive attack before they arrived.

Keshel’s macabre news wasn’t finished yet. “Not only that, but another one of those creatures appeared on the highlands outside the city last night.” Marai bolted towards the door, but Keshel grasped her arm, halting her. “Leif, Raife, and I handled it. No one was hurt, but it wasn’t easy to kill.”

“What did it look like?” asked Aresti, agog.

Keshel shuddered, spooked by the memory. “Two foul heads, six arms, strange markings upon its body—”

“Have you seen anything about them?” Marai asked.

Keshel closed his eyes, recalling his visions. “They bloom from the ground like weeds, shrouded in shadow and flame. Dark magic from the earth births them from the Underworld itself.”

Aresti’s face contorted with disgust.

“Enough,” Ruenen shouted, raising his hands in the air in frustration. He made his way up the dais, each step labored and dragging, until he stood before the throne. Chatter drifted off as Ruenen faced a room full of anxious Nevandians. “Tacorn will continue to attack more of our towns. It’s time to muster men across Nevandia. All able-bodied men must be ready to fight.”

“But many of them don’t know how to wield a weapon,” a councilman said. “They’re peasants, miners, and farmers, Your Highness.”

“We have no choice,” Ruenen said, voice hoarse with fatigue. “Tacorn and Varana outnumber us. Every man counts. You can teach them the basics while they’re gathering in the camps for battle. Commander Avilyard, send out word.”

Avilyard bowed. He stood at the long table, gazing over maps spread across its surface. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“I believe men ages eleven to seventy-five will have to do,” said Holfast, weary face more lined with wrinkles than the day before.

Men? Marai closed her eyes, imagining scrawny, terrified boys standing up against Rayghast’s trained killers. Ruenen scowled, probably thinking the same thing. He massaged his temples, squeezing his eyes shut.

“We should retaliate,” shouted a golden-clad commander from the crowd. “Sack the city of Elfaygua right over the border!”

Voices rose in agreement.

“I will not hurt innocent lives,” Ruenen said with cold authority. “Retaliating by killing Tacornian citizens makes us no better than Rayghast. We must strike their army.”

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but with our forces spread so thin, we don’t have the men to spare to send after the Tacornian unit,” Avilyard said.

“Something must be done,” said a nobleman. “We cannot allow Tacorn to get away with such an atrocity!”

The room burst into enraged commotion again. Ruenen’s face was drawn as Holfast, Vorae, Fenir, and Avilyard launched into discussion with him.

“Send us,” Marai shouted.

Ruenen’s head snapped to her, along with every pair of eyes. Beside her, Keshel and Aresti went rigid. Marai stalked forward; the crowd parted, letting her pass to the dais. The skeptical, distrustful looks grew with each step she took. Keshel and Aresti didn’t follow.

“You cannot spare any men, but you need to attack. Nevandia cannot appear weak. Your citizens need to know you’ll protect them,” Marai said, speaking solely to Ruenen. “Dispatch the fae, and we’ll track down the unit responsible for Gloaw Crana.”

“There are only seven of you. What can you possibly hope to accomplish against a unit of Rayghast’s most skilled soldiers?” asked Fenir. Next to him, Vorae’s red face scrunched in skepticism.

“Five,” Marai corrected, thinking of Thora and Kadiatu. “Two of us will not fight.”

Marai heard the scoffs and snickers. She ignored them. Her mind was set. No one, not even Ruenen, could change it.

“I say let them go,” said a commander next to Avilyard. “Let the creatures prove their worth. If they want to get themselves killed, who cares?”